Truly Madly Yours

by Rachel Gibson

  “Yes.” She was beyond caring. She ached with desire and emptiness and the need for him to fill her with pleasure. “Tell me you want me, too.”

  “I’ve always wanted you,” he breathed into her hair. “Always.”

  The tension inside her built and pulled and made her mindless to anything but him. She wanted to climb on top of him. Inside him, and stay there forever. He rubbed his straining erection back and forth against her aroused flesh.

  Nick removed her leg from him and bunched the hem of her dress and slip in one fist, holding them up as he shoved her hose and silky panties down her thighs to her knees. He planted his foot in the crotch of her underwear and nylons, pushing the garments to her feet. Delaney kicked them free, and his hand moved between their bodies, and he touched her between her legs. His fingers slid into her slick flesh and she shuddered, feeling herself slowly propelled toward climax with each caress. A moan slipped past her lips, a husky sound of need.

  “I want deep inside you.” His gaze locked on hers and he shrugged off his suspenders, leaving them to hang at his sides. His hands tore at the waistband, fumbling with the button and zipper closing his wool pants. Delaney reached for him and pushed his cotton briefs. His penis jutted free in her palm, huge and hard and smooth as polished teakwood. His skin stretched tight and he slowly pushed himself into her tight grasp. “I have to have you-now.”

  Nick lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. The voluptuous head of his hot erection nudged her slick opening. Their flesh touched, and he reached between their bodies and wrapped his hand around the shaft of his penis. He forced her down as he thrust upward inside, stretching her until a stitch of pain invaded Delaney’s erotic haze, but he withdrew, then buried himself deep, and there was nothing but intense pleasure. The penetration was so powerful and complete, his knees buckled and for one tense moment she feared he might drop her, but he didn’t. His grip on her hips tightened; he withdrew then plunged into her again, deeper. “Sweet Jesus,” he gasped as his powerful body crushed her against the door. His chest heaved as he fought to pull air into his lungs, and his uneven breath whispered across her temple, the sound of his passion and pleasure all the same.

  Her legs tightened around his waist and she moved with him, slowly at first, then faster and faster as the pressure built. Her heart beat in her ears as he hammered into her, over and over, pushing her closer to orgasm with each thrust of his pumping hips. Like their frantic mating, there was nothing slow or easy about the intense pleasure that grabbed her, pulled her down, and turned her inside out. Tremor upon tremor shook her, rippled across her flesh, and robbed her of breath. She felt weightless, and a sound like a hurricane thundered in her head. Her back arched and she clutched at his shirt. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound died in her dry throat. His strong arms crushed her against his chest, his big shoulders shook, and he held her tight as wave after luscious wave continued to roll through her. Her muscles contracted, gripping him tight within her. Her spasms had barely slowed when his began. A deep groan rumbled in his chest as he plunged into her. His muscles turned as hard as stone, and he whispered her name one last time.

  When it was over, she felt battered and bruised, as if she’d just lived through a battle. Nick rested his forehead on the door behind her until his breathing slowed and he pulled back far enough to look into her face. He was still embedded deep within her body and their clothes were in disarray. Carefully he eased himself out of her, and she lowered her feet to the ground. Her dress slid down her hips and thighs. His gray eyes looked into hers, but he didn’t utter a word. He studied her for a moment longer, his gaze more guarded with each passing second, then he reached for his pants and pulled them to his waist.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  He glanced at her, then returned his gaze to his pants. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who like to talk afterward?”

  Something wonderful and awful had just happened, she wasn’t quite sure which. Something more than sex. She’d had her share of orgasms in the past, some really good ones, too, but what she’d just experienced was more than getting off. More than waves crashing and the earth quaking. Nick Allegrezza had taken her someplace she’d never been before, and she felt like sitting down and crying about it. A sob escaped her throat, and she pressed her fingers to her lips. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want him to see her cry.

  His gaze shot to her as he shoved his shirttails into his pants. “Are you crying?”

  She shook her head, but her eyes began to water.

  “Yes, you are.” He threaded his arms through his suspenders and snapped them in place.

  “I’m not.” He’d just given her the most intense pleasure of her life, and now he calmly got dressed as if this sort of thing happened to him all the time. Maybe it did. She wanted to scream. To curl up her fist and hit him. She’d thought they’d shared something special, but obviously they hadn’t. She felt raw and exposed, her body still aching from his touch. If he said something nasty, she was afraid she’d shatter. “Don’t do this to me, Nick.”

  “The damage is done,” he said as he retrieved his jacket from the floor. “Tell me you’re taking some form of birth control.”

  She could feel the blood drain from her face and she shook her head. She thought back to her last period and felt a glimmer of relief. “It’s the wrong time of the month for me to get pregnant.”

  “Honey, I’m Catholic. A lot of us are conceived at the wrong time of the month.” He pushed his arms through the sleeves of his jacket and straightened the collar. “I haven’t forgotten a condom in about ten years. How about you?”

  “Ah…” She was a woman of the nineties. In charge of her life and her body, but for some reason she couldn’t talk about this with Nick without getting embarrassed. “Yeah.”

  “What exactly does ‘ah… yeah’ mean?”

  “You’re the first in a really long time, and before this, I was careful.”

  He studied her for a moment. “Okay,” he said and tossed her underwear and pantyhose to her. “Where’s your coat?”

  She clutched the garments to her chest, suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed. An odd delayed reaction, considering what she’d held in her hand a few moments before. “On a rack by the front doors. Why?”

  “I’m taking you home.”

  Home had never sounded so good.

  “Get dressed before a maid decides she needs some towels or something.” His unreadable gaze stared into hers as he pulled on his cuffs. “I’ll be right back,” he said, then slowly opened the door. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  Once she was alone, Delaney looked around the room. She spotted her handbag by her left foot, a velvet pump beneath a step chair, and the other beside an empty bucket. Without Nick to distract her, thoughts and self-recriminations came rushing at her. She couldn’t believe what she’d done. She’d had unprotected sex with Nick Allegrezza in a linen closet in the Lake Shore Hotel. He’d made her lose complete control with nothing more than a kiss, and if it weren’t for the lingering physical proof, she probably wouldn’t believe it even now.

  She carefully sat on the step chair and put on her underwear and pantyhose. Just last month she’d assured Louie that she and Nick wouldn’t do anything to cause gossip at his wedding, yet she’d had wild sex with his brother behind an unlocked door where anyone could have caught them. If anyone found out, she’d never live it down. She’d probably have to kill herself.

  Just as she pulled her hose to her waist and shoved her feet into the shoes, the door swung open and Nick entered the small room. She had trouble looking at him as he held her coat open for her. “I need to tell Lisa I’m leaving.”

  “I told her you got sick and I’m taking you home.”

  “Did she believe you?” She glanced up quickly, then shoved her arms into her wool coat.

  “Narcisa saw you run out of the dining room and told everyone you looked l
ike death.”

  “Gee, maybe I should thank her.”

  They left out a side door, and white downy snow drifted from the black sky and settled on their hair and shoulders. A new layer slid inside Delaney’s pumps as she made her way across the parking lot toward Nick’s Jeep. Her feet slipped from beneath her, and she would have fallen on her behind if he hadn’t reached out and grabbed her upper arm. His grasp tightened as they walked across the slick ground, but neither of them spoke, the only sound the crunch of snow beneath the soles of their shoes.

  He helped her into the Jeep, but didn’t wait for the engine to warm before he shoved the four-wheel drive into gear and headed away from the Lake Shore. The inside of the Jeep was pitched in darkness and smelled of leather seats and Nick. He stopped at the corner of Chipmunk and Main and reached for her, practically pulling her into his lap. The tips of his fingers touched her cheek as he looked down into her face. Then slowly his head lowered and he pressed his mouth to hers. He kissed her once, twice, and stayed the third time to leave a soft lingering kiss on her lips.

  He pulled back and whispered, “Buckle your seatbelt.” The wide tires spun until the knobby tread found traction, and cool air blasted Delaney’s warm cheeks from the heater vent. She buried her chin in the collar of her coat and cast a sideways glance at him. The dash light cast his face and hands in a green glow. Melted snow glistened like tiny emeralds in his black hair and on the shoulders of his tuxedo jacket. A street lamp illuminated the inside of the Jeep for several seconds as he blew past her salon.

  “You missed the turn to my apartment.”

  “No I didn’t.”

  “Aren’t you taking me home?”

  “Yep. My home. Did you think we were finished?” He shifted into a lower gear and took a left along the east end of the lake. “We haven’t even begun.”

  She turned in her seat and looked at him. “Begun doing what exactly?”

  “What we did in that closet wasn’t near enough.”

  The thought of his fully nude body pressed to hers wasn’t exactly abhorrent, in fact it turned her insides warm. As Nick had said earlier, the damage was done. Why not spend the night with a man who was very good at making her body come alive in ways she’d never known possible? She’d been on the wagon a long time and wasn’t likely to get a better offer in the foreseeable future. One night. One night she would probably regret, but she’d worry about that tomorrow. “Are you trying to tell me-in your own typically macho way-that you want to make love again?”

  He glanced at her. “I’m not trying to tell you anything. I want you. You want me. Someone is going to end up wearing nothing but a satisfied smile on her lips.”

  “I don’t know, Nick, I might talk afterward. Do you think you can handle it?”

  “I can handle anything you can think up, and a few things you’ve probably never even thought of.”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Sure, wild thing. I have four bedrooms. You can choose which one we use first.”

  Nick didn’t scare her. She knew he wouldn’t force her to do anything against her will. Of course, around him, she seemed to pretty much abandon anything resembling a will of her own.

  The Jeep slowed and turned into a wide driveway lined on both sides with Ponderosa and lodge pole pine. Out of the dense forest rose a huge house made of split log and lake rock. Its cathedral windows spilled panels of light on the freshly fallen snow. Nick reached for his visor and the middle of three garage doors opened. The four-wheel drive rolled between his Bayliner and Harley.

  The inside of the house was just as impressive as the outside. Lots of exposed beams, muted colors, and natural fibers. Delaney stood in front of a wall of windows and looked outside onto the deck. It was still snowing, and the white flakes accumulated on the rail and landed in the Jacuzzi. Nick had taken her coat, and with the ceiling so high and the rooms so open, she was surprised she wasn’t cold.

  “What do you think?”

  She turned and watched him approach her from the kitchen. He’d taken off his jacket and his shoes. One more black stud had been removed from his pleated white shirt, and he’d rolled the sleeves up his forearms. The black suspenders lay flat against his wide chest. He handed her a Budweiser, then took a drink from his own. His eyes watched her over the bottle, and she got the feeling he cared about her answer more than he wanted her to know.

  “It’s beautiful, but huge. Do you live here alone?”

  He lowered the beer. “Of course. Who else?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a family of five.” She glanced up at the balcony which she presumed lead to those four bedrooms he’d mentioned. “Are you planning for a large family with lots of children someday?”

  “I don’t plan to get married.”

  His answer pleased her, but she didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like she cared if he wanted to spend his life with another woman, or kiss her, or make love to her, or overwhelm her with his touch.

  “No kids, either… unless you’re pregnant.” He glanced at her stomach as if he could tell by looking. “When will you know for sure?”

  “I already know I’m not.”

  “I hope you’re right.” He moved to the window and looked out into the night. “I know single women are getting pregnant on purpose these days. Being illegitimate doesn’t have the stigma it used to have, but that doesn’t make it easy. I know what it’s like to grow up like that. I don’t want to do that to some poor kid.”

  The Y of his suspenders lay against his back and up over his big shoulders. She remembered the times she’d seen his mother and Josu sitting in the gymnasium watching school plays and holiday programs. Henry and Gwen would have been there, too, somewhere. She’d never thought about what that must have been like for Nick. She set her bottle on a cherrywood coffee table and moved to him.

  “You’re not like Henry. You wouldn’t deny your own child.” She wanted to slide her hands around his waist to his flat stomach and press her cheek against his spine, but she held back.

  “Henry’s probably spinning in his grave.”

  “He’s probably congratulating himself.”

  “Why? He didn’t want us to-” Her eyes widened. “Oh, no, Nick. I forgot about the will. I guess you forgot, too.”

  He turned to face her. “For a few crucial moments, it did slip my mind.”

  She looked into his eyes. He didn’t appear all that upset. “I won’t tell anyone. I don’t want that property. I promise.”

  “That’s up to you.” He brushed a stray piece of hair from her face and softly traced her ear with his fingertips. Then he took her hand and led her upstairs to his bedroom.

  As they moved up the steps, she thought about Henry’s will and the repercussions of tonight. Nick didn’t strike her as the type of man who let anything slip his mind, especially not his multimillion dollar inheritance. He had to care for her as much as she feared she was beginning to care for him. He risked a lot to be with her, while she risked nothing but a little self-respect. And actually, when she thought of it, she didn’t feel dirty or used or regret anything. Not now-maybe she would in the morning.

  Delaney stepped into a room with thick beige carpet and a set of closed French doors leading to an upper deck. There was a huge hardwood mission bed with pillows and comforters of striped sage green and beige. Keys were thrown on one dresser, and a newspaper lay unopened on the other. There wasn’t a flower printed on anything, no spots of lace or strings of fringe in sight. Not even on the bolsters. It was a man’s room. Elk antlers hung above the rock mantel. The bed was unmade, and a pair of Levi’s was thrown over a chair.

  As he set their beer bottles on a nightstand, Delaney raised her hands to the black studs and worked them free until the shirt lay open to his waist. “It’s time I got to see you naked,” she said, then slid her palms up his warm skin. Her fingers combed through the fine hair growing in a dark line up his belly and across his chest. She pushed the white cotton and suspenders f
rom his shoulders and down his arms.

  He balled the shirt in one hand and tossed it to the floor. She ran her gaze over his taut skin, powerful chest, and flat brown nipples surrounded by dark hair. She swallowed and thought maybe she should check for drool. Only one word came to mind. “Wow,” she said and pressed her hand against his flat stomach. She ran her palm up his ribs and looked into his gray eyes. He watched her from beneath lowered lids as she stripped him to his BVDs. He was beautiful. His legs were long and thick with muscles. Her fingers traced the tattoo circling his biceps. She touched his chest and shoulders, and slid her hands over his back and rounded behind. When her examination moved south, he grabbed her wrist and took over. He slowly undressed her, then laid her on soft flannel sheets. His warm skin pressed the length of hers, and he took his time making love to her.

  His touch was different from before. His hands lingered over her body, and he seduced her with stirring languid kisses. He teased her breasts with his hot mouth and slick tongue, and when he entered her, his thrusts were slow and controlled. He held her face between his palms and his gaze locked with hers, holding himself back as he drove her wild.

  She felt herself propelled toward orgasm, and her eyes drifted shut.

  “Open your eyes,” he said, his voice husky. “Look at me. I want you to see my face when I make you come.”

  Her lids opened and she looked into his intense gaze. Something bothered her about his request, but she didn’t have time to think about it before he thrust harder, deeper, and she wrapped one leg around his behind and forgot about everything but the hot tingles building with steady pressure in her body.

  It wasn’t until just before dawn the next morning as he kissed her good-bye at her door, that she thought about it again. As she watched him drive away, she remembered the look in his eyes as he’d held her face between his palms. It was if he were watching her from a distance, yet at the same time wanting her to know it was Nick Allegrezza who held her and kissed her and drove her wild.

  He made love to her in his bed and later in the Jacuzzi, but neither time had been like that hurried, hungry mating in the linen closet when he’d touched her with an urgency and need he hadn’t been able to control. She’d never felt so wanted as she had smashed against his chest in the Lake Shore Hotel. “I have to have you-now,” he’d said, as desperate for her as she’d been for him. His touch had been needy and greedy, and she craved it more than the slow lingering caresses.